The End of the Beginning
by Sloane Ranger
Summary: Ever wondered why the Thirteenth Tribe of Cylons originally left Kobol. Here's my speculation. Features the ancestors of several major characters.


**THE END OF THE BEGINNING**

**Kobol, - Four thousand years before the destruction of the 12 colonies**

Septimus Tyrol scrapped the bottom of his bowl to extract the last remnants of cereal then took it to the sink to rinse it out. As he did so his eyes flickered around the bare apartment, subconsciously noting, as he always did, the gaps where the microwave, the sound system and the television had once stood. He sighed. He knew Kobol was in the longest and deepest fraking recession in its long history but it seemed that the Cylons were bearing the brunt of it.

He was alone as his wife had not yet returned from her job as an office cleaner. They hardly got to see each other these days. By the time she returned he would be out looking for work and when he came back in the evening, they would have an hour or two together, at most, before she would have to leave again. They were among the lucky ones, he reminded herself. The money Decima's employers were paying her for a twelve hour night shift might not be enough to live on but at least they had some sort of regular income coming into the household. A lot of his neighbours didn't even have that. Cylons were the last to be hired and the first to be fired. It had been like this ever since the Lords of Kobol had granted them their freedom and this economic meltdown had brought that fact into stark clarity.

Septimus' lips twisted into a grimace. It was times like this that made him wonder whether freedom was all it was cracked up to be! A hundred years ago, when the Cylons had been slaves to the other twelve tribes, if there had been no work for them to do their bodies would have been painlessly euthanized and their consciousnesses boxed until they were needed again. Now they had to tough it out and hope that the green shoots of recovery the pundits were always talking about would soon start to show through.

He glanced at his watch and saw it was time to leave. He shrugged his coat onto his stocky body and left the apartment, carefully locking up after him. Crime had increased since the recession had started and Cylons were even stealing from other Cylons now. The Tyrol's didn't have much left to steal but what they had, they wanted to keep. He trudged down the three flights of stairs, the lift had been out of action for a month, and entered the pot holed, litter strewn street with its overflowing trash cans. The residents had complained to the authorities but had been told that the economic situation had forced them to make cut backs in services. Another man had just exited the building opposite and Septimus nodded to him in greeting, noting that Octo Anders rangy form was even thinner than normal and his cheeks sunken.

'Its harder for the pleasure models than it is for us.' Septimus thought. 'We were designed for physical labour and semi-skilled work while their function was to amuse and divert rich humans.' He knew that some pleasure models had returned to their original function when money had become tight but Octo still had too much self respect for that.

Although he could pay to take public transit, he began walking alongside Anders. There was no point wasting money if he didn't have to. Each of them was silent, occupied with their own thoughts and worries. Soon they had left behind the area of Capricorn City occupied by the Cylons and entered one of the human occupied sections. Septimus noted, cynically, that although the buildings were run down, the streets here were better maintained and the trash cans had been emptied. The authorities hadn't cut back services to the humans it seemed.

Anders roused himself from his thoughts and asked, "Are you going to the meeting tonight?"

Septimus shrugged. "What's the point?" he asked. "It'll just be the same old thing and Decima and I don't have a lot of time together as it is." Out of the corner of his eye he saw a frizzle-haired woman give them both a look of absolute hatred and heard her mutter "Fraking skin-jobs." under her breath. He ignored her with the skill of long practice.

"Rumour is the Tigh's are going to be suggesting a way to permanently resolve our problems with the humans." Anders offered.

Tyrol felt something small and hard hit him in the small of the back. He turned to see a gang of children glaring at him.

"Filthy toasters; stinking up our streets!" One jeered before they all ran off, laughing.

"What's that going to be? Genocide?" Tyrol asked, bitterly.

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"I am Margery Edmondson and this is 'This morning on Channel Six'." Margaret paused and flashed a phony smile at the camera. "In news overnight, a Cylon resurrection facility in Sagittarius City was invaded and vandalised by protesters. Reports state that damage was minimal and the Cylons using the facility at the time were unharmed but this is the latest in a long series of escalating violent incidents against the Thirteenth Tribe. With us today, we have Leah Roslin, spokesperson for Humanity First to give her thoughts on the situation… Good morning, Leah!"

"Good morning, Margery." The woman opposite responded, smiling sweetly at the camera through the curtains created by her long, dark hair. "First off, I would like to state categorically that Humanity First does not sanction or support people breaking the law, however, we understand and sympathise with the frustrations experienced by our fellow humans that lead to actions such as these."

"The Lords of Kobol gave the Cylons their freedom, Leah; doesn't that mean we should accept their existence within our society and extend to them the rights and privileges we give to each other?"

"Not at all, Margery." Leah Roslin smiled the same sweet smile at the camera. "The Lords gave the Cylons their freedom; that's true, but they never said they were to have equal rights with humans. Now, we don't have anything against Cylons but Humanity First thinks that we should look after our own first. When human beings can't find jobs and can't afford to pay for medical treatment for themselves and their families, why should our tax money be spent on providing services to others?"

"But don't we owe the Cylons for the years of slavery and exploitation they experienced?"

"Well, there you are wrong I'm afraid to say, Margery. What you have to remember is that Cylons are NOT humans. They may look like us but that's because we made them that way. Their bodies are synthetic, their blood is just a chemical compound created in a lab. What appears to be personality and consciousness are simply a sophisticated computer programmes and, most telling of all, they can't have babies! They are machines and how can you enslave a machine? Now, I don't pretend to know why the Lords of Kobol ordered us to let them go but I don't believe for one moment they intended we should treat them as if they were human. If they did, why don't they tell us to?"

Margery Edmondson glanced at the producer and saw her making cutting motions. She, once again, flashed the smile that had made "This Morning on Channel Six" one of the best rated programmes in the Capricorn Tribal Area. "Well, thank you for coming here today, Leah and sharing your thoughts on this important subject with us. Now, on to a story about a boy, a skateboard and his pet dog…"

Seeing that the insert was running she turned to her guest, who was removing the mike from the lapel of her jacket. "Well, I thought that went well." She observed.

Leah Roslin shrugged. "We'll see. At least it was another opportunity to get our message across to a mass audience." She glanced at the clock at the back of the set. "I must be off. I have a Board meeting to attend."

Margery extended her hand. "Good luck" she said as they shook hands.

Leah Roslin left the set and made her way through the backstage area towards the car park.

"Well, you don't know how relived I am to hear Humanity First doesn't condone illegal activity. Of course, if you'd said anything else in public, your organisation could have found itself on the wrong end of a massive lawsuit!"

Leah recognised the voice and schooled her expression to one of polite interest. She turned to face the fair haired, middle-aged looking machine.

She took a deep breath, "Mrs. Tigh, on behalf of Humanity First I offer my condolences for the unfortunate incident last night. Please…"

"Let's cut the crap, Ms Roslin. We both know you and your organisation would be happy to see the back of every last one of us. Well, I've come here to offer you a chance to do just that."

Seeing that she had Roslin's attention, the machine that called itself Sexta Tigh began to explain. When it had finished, it said. "Run that past your political supporters and wealthy backers and let us know their response." With that, she walked away without another word.

Leah spent the rest of her journey to her car in deep thought. As soon as she had slid into the driver's seat she took out her cell phone and punched one of the numbers stored in its memory.

"Mr. Zarek," she said. "I have just been approached by one of the Cylon leadership with a very interesting proposal. One I think we should seriously consider."

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Joseph Adama, senior advisor to the leader of the Capricorn Tribe, looked up from the document he had been reading and studied the nervous aide standing in the doorway.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a…a person asking to see you. He says his name is Secundus Tigh and he is here representing the …err…Thirteenth Tribe."

Adama considered. He was busy and he always felt ill at ease dealing with Cylons but he had met this particular one before and had found him pleasant enough company – for a Cylon.

"Show him in." he decided.

He rose to greet the tall, slim, balding 'man' who was ushered in and waved him to a chair. "I'm sorry, I can only spare you a few moments." He apologised, indicating the pile of papers on his desk.

"You may want to re-think that after you hear what I have to say." The Cylon replied, his voice clear and well modulated but with a slight gravelly undertone to it.

Adama wondered, for a moment, why his designers had chosen to add that touch – or maybe it had been a design fault? But he forgot that as the Cylon continued speaking. An hour later, his paperwork forgotten, he asked.

"Drink?"

"Yes, please."

Joseph rose and poured two generous measures of Ambrosia into crystal glass tumblers from a decanter of the same material before handing one to his companion. He took a large gulp and asked, "Are you sure about this? Will your people agree to it? It's a radical step. If the government agrees to allocate the resources you'll need there's no way you can back out."

He watched as the Cylon opposite took a long slug from his own glass, his expression displaying his pleasure with the quality of the alcohol and its effects. Is that real or just some sort of pre-programmed response, he wondered?

"We think it's the only solution. We've never been accepted by the other Tribes and the economic situation has only exacerbated the tensions between us. As for our people, we'll know tonight, after the meeting we've called. I think it will get a lot of support, maybe not everyone, but most." Tigh replied.

"What do you want from me?" Adama asked.

"We want you to sell it to your Tribal leadership. The Capricorns are among the largest of the twelve Tribes. You carry a lot of power and influence in the Quorum of the Tribes."

Joseph thought for a long moment, then drained his glass. "IF you can get your people to agree, I will recommend it to the Capricorn leadership." He agreed.

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There was absolute silence in the hall as Sexta Tigh finished speaking, then an eruption of sound as voices were raised in shock and argument.

"Leave Kobol – never!"

"Where would we go?"

"Yeah go for it, frak the humans!"

Secundus Tigh rose from his chair on the dais. "Shut the frak up!" he yelled. "This is a formal meeting, not a competition to see who's got the loudest voice. If you want to speak, raise your hand and wait to be acknowledged by the Chair."

The atmosphere calmed and those that had risen from their seats sat down again. Secundus studied the sea of hands in front of him and turned to his wife.

"It's going to be a long night." He murmured to her.

"It's a big decision, dearest." She replied, placing her hand on his arm comfortingly.

He gave a resigned sigh and pointed to a Foster model. "Chair recognises Decimaquartra Foster." He called.

The woman rose. "I think it's insane!" she said, forcefully. "We've been exploring space for hundreds of years and never found anything more than a marginally habitable world other than this one. Are you suggesting we give up shops and electricity and hot water and modern medicine to scratch out a living on some cold, barren rock somewhere?"

She sat down to a round of applause.

Tigh surveyed the room and pointed to another individual. "Vicesimo Rutger." He called.

The man stood. "I say we should go." He said. "We're nothing to the humans other than occasionally useful tools. They'll never treat us as equals. I say leave them and let them collect the trash and repair the sewers without us. Frak them!"

The round of applause as he sat down was equally loud.

Speaker followed speaker, hour after hour with the balance evenly divided between staying and leaving

"Septimus Tyrol" Tigh called, his voice cracking slightly with use.

Septimus rose slowly and looked round the room. "I wasn't going to come here tonight." He began "But this morning a gang of kids threw a stone at me and a human women looked at me with absolute hatred. Later, when I went to look for work at the docks the supervisor openly said that she didn't use Cylons. I went round the warehouses and, on my fifth try, got a day's work moving crates at half the union wage for the job. When I complained, the owner told me I should shut my fraking Cylon mouth and be thankful that there were still people willing to employ Toasters at all. I hardly see my wife these days and when I do, we are both too exhausted to do anything except talk and sleep."

"But, everyone here has got stories like that. What I've been thinking is this. We are humanity's children. There comes a time in every child's life when they have to leave their parents if they are to truly grow and mature and reach their own potential. I think this is the time for us. Some of the humans hate us because they fear us. Others patronise us, they probably don't mean to but they do. We will never find out what we are capable of if we stay here, the humans will always hold us back. Some say we won't be able to make it on our own. What we have to remember is that we were created to be strong and resilient. We have builders and engineers and farm workers among our numbers and we have a capacity to learn. I think we can make it. Let's not sell ourselves short."

He sat down to absolute silence and then Octo Anders sitting in the row ahead of him began to clap. Others joined in and soon the entire hall resounded with the noise.

A voice rose "Yeah! You tell 'em."

Sexta leant over to her husband. "Call the vote now!" she muttered.

"All those in favour of the motion?" he asked.

Almost every hand in the auditorium rose.

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Athena knocked urgently on the ornate wooden door.

"Father, father!"

She heard a rustle inside and the sounds of a muttered conversation. The door slowly opened and she stepped into her father's sanctum to see him sitting opposite a young priestess, barely more than a girl, who was still trying to re-arrange her robes. Athena glanced at her and noted that she was beautiful but her eyes and expression showed a complete lack of any intelligence.

'His ideal sex object.' She thought in passing. 'I don't envy her when Hera finds out.'

Zeus smiled benignly at the near child. "That will be all for now my dear. Come back after supper."

Once she had left he turned to his daughter and raised his eyebrows. "So, what is so urgent that you had to disturb me during my blessing of my new Priestess?"

Athena bit back the retort that was on her lips. This was too important to risk the conversation degenerating into another diatribe about her father's sexual appetites.

"The Cylons are going to leave Kobol." She said.

Zeus looked interested but not disturbed by the news. "Really? Well that's an exciting development. It will be fascinating to see how it turns out."

"What are you talking about? You have to order them not to go! If necessary you'll have to order the humans to treat them better!"

Zeus took his daughter by the shoulders and gently sat her in the chair the priestess had vacated. "Athena, I know that you have come to care about all these creatures but you must remember what our mission here is. It is to study how they react to those they perceive as being different from themselves. Will they integrate? Co-exist? Kill each other? Now, if the Cylons depart, that opens up whole new possibilities. Deprived of the obvious 'other'; how will the remaining twelve tribes behave? Will they continue as they always have or will they try to create a new 'other' from among themselves? Either way, the benefits to our sociological research will be immense. And studying the Cylons themselves as they find and settle a new planet – well it opens up a whole new research project!"

Athena knew it was useless to argue further. She looked her father in the eyes. "You'll look after the Cylons, protect them during the voyage, make sure they find somewhere to settle?"

Zeus patted her arm. "I'll keep an eye on them, but, remember I can't and won't protect them – or the humans – from the consequences of their own actions."

The End

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End file.
